


Dungeons and Drogon

by deanstrenchcoatangel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, This is DUMB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-20 15:41:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanstrenchcoatangel/pseuds/deanstrenchcoatangel
Summary: Brienne Tarth honestly didn’t know what she was doing there. She usually spent her Friday nights pumping iron. Although, she supposed, rolling dice over and over was sort of an arm workout, right? She watched Samwell Tarly, the resident Dungeon Master for the Iron Throne Fantasy League shuffling some pages behind his screen as everyone settled in to play. Here we go.***This is a very, very, self-indulgent fic idea I had. I was just minding my own business when I thought "Hey... What if Game of Thrones was Dungeons and Dragons?" And here we are. Basically, everything that happens in the show is taking place in a DnD campaign, with the modern versions characters loosely playing as themselves. Most of the story will take place out of the campaign, but I thought it would be interesting to see how things happening in the show/campaign would affect the characters out of the campaign. You get the idea. I swear it's cooler than it sounds.





	Dungeons and Drogon

**Author's Note:**

> This is a weird thing, huh. Well, I haven't written anything in probably at least a year, but the passion is back, baby. 
> 
> I'll be adding character and relationship tags as I go, just as a note.
> 
> I know this chapter is a lot of set-up, and it is a bit shorter, but I promise next time we'll get more into the meat, and chapters should be longer from here on out. *Jaime will be added next time*
> 
> If anyone is even reading this weird-ass thing, lemme know what you think! If you have any ideas, feel free to leave them in the comments!

   Brienne honestly didn’t know what she was doing there. She usually spent her Friday nights pumping iron. Although, she supposed, rolling dice over and over was  _ sort of  _  an arm workout, right? She watched Samwell Tarly, the resident Dungeon Master for the Iron Throne Fantasy League shuffling some pages behind his screen as people milled about the room. 

   One of the great things about Sam’s campaign, Sansa excitedly informed her, was that you didn’t have to be there every night. At that Brienne cocked an eyebrow but Sansa just plowed on. “It’s such an expansive story, Brienne. So many characters and stories… It’s simply amazing! I swear, Samwell is going to be a great author one day.” She could see the blush rising in the pudgy boy’s cheeks. 

   Tyrion, one of Sansa’s closest friends (who had gotten her into the game, admittedly), spoke up from beside her. “Careful, dear, I’ll think you’re stepping out on me.”

   Sansa rolled her eyes. “What do you think Margaery and I do every Friday night?” 

   “My lady, you wound me.”

   “Ignore him,” Sansa sat back in her chair, primly crossing her arms, “Samwell really is the best though. I’m sure he’s come up with something  _ amazing _ to introduce you!”

   The character sheet on the table stared up at her,  _ her name _ emblazoned at the top. One of the things that Brienne had found interesting about Sam’s story is that every character  _ was _ the player. Sansa played Sansa Stark of Winterfell. Tyrion played Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock. And Brienne? Well, from now on, she would be Brienne of Tarth. It was weirdly satisfying to see written out.  _ Brienne  _ of _ Tarth _ , warrior maiden. 

   After she had gotten Sam’s permission to join the story (“Really, it’s no trouble at all, we have some people leaving soon anyway”), the two had worked tirelessly over her backstory. Brienne of Tarth, she had decided, was a complicated woman. Following in the tradition of the other members of this Westerosi campaign, Brienne of Tarth looked much like Brienne Tarth. Same blue eyes, same sandy hair, same… mannish build. Despite Sansa’s pleas to have her as a lady-in-waiting (“Please, please, pleaaaaaaase… Sansa’s in such a tough spot right nowww! Her father’s just been murdered and her brother is fighting a war against her evil husband-to-be” - and  _ wow _ , was that a lot to unpack,  _ what has she gotten herself into _ , she asked for the umpteenth time), she had decided that her goal would be to serve the handsome (usurper), King Renly Baratheon, as one of his kingsguard. Channeling some of her own experiences, she began to flesh out the Maid of Tarth: a woman who struggled in a world in which she fit into neither side - not quite a lady and not quite a knight. 

   “Is this the newest member of my Kingsguard?” Brienne looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes.  _ Ah, Renly. _ It had been a long time since the two had talked. Out of shame borne of a love for a gay man, Brienne had… made efforts to avoid him. Not that he really knew. But that was a story for another time. 

   For this time, Brienne gave him a small smile. “Let’s hope so.”

   “It’s good to see you again,” he gave her a cheesy smile, dipping exaggeratedly at the waist, “my lady.”

***

   “Today’s a smaller session,” Sansa explained as people finally began to settle around the room. It was a bit of an odd set-up. There was one main table, a large, throne-like seat at the head (in which Sam was sitting), with five seats crowded on either side. To be honest, it looked as though it should only hold three seats, but somehow they made it work.  _ For the sake of the story _ , she supposed. There were some various seats scattered here and there -  beanbags, fold-out seats, you name it, it was there. She supposed when you had a campaign whose  _ small _ sessions included 16 people, you had to make do. 

   Sansa gestured to a few of them. “Because Sam doesn’t want to turn anyone away, we have a ton of people in this story. Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty great. But it means that not everyone is playing all of the time. So we have the seats so that it doesn’t get too crowded up here.” Clearly sensing the nervousness on Brienne’s face, she was quick to reassure her. “Don’t worry, I talked to Sam. The scenes are pretty small today, so you can sit up here and watch. Ya know, kinda get a feel for everything. And don’t be afraid to ask questions!”

   Her 20-sided dice felt heavy in her palm. “Are you sure this is a good idea? What if I’m awful?”

   “You won’t be. I promise.”

   “But if I am?”

   “Then we’ll just kill you off. Don’t worry, we’ve already experimented with plenty of PC deaths.” She smiled, almost nostalgically. “We  _ told _ Dad he wouldn’t like the game.”

   There was a bout of laughter from Brienne’s right as Arya, Sansa’s little sister, darted up. “Are you talking about when we had Dad killed off?”

***

   “When we last left off, shit was going down,” Sam began enigmatically. Everyone was crowded around the table, no elbow room to be seen. As Sansa had further explained, not everyone came every week to the session. Some people only came every few weeks, some came every week. There was a system: everyone would email Sam with whether or not they would be able to come, and he would plan out the next session. Then he would email everyone back with what plot-lines would be continued. If you weren’t “needed”, then it would be up to you whether or not you wanted to come and watch. If you decided not to, that was perfectly fine, because Sam’s dutiful girlfriend Gilly always took perfect notes, which she would send out weekly to keep everyone up to date on  _ The Game of Westeros (Working Title)  _ by Samwell Tarly.

   Brienne straightened up in her seat. She had read through all of the notes from the many, many sessions that had happened before she came in, but she still wanted to hear what Sam found important enough to include from the last session. “Shae is in danger in the capital, thanks to a certain little spider.” Brienne located Shae positioned next to Tyrion. It seemed that the couple was tentatively back on for the moment. 

   “Cersei is determined to keep her power in King’s Landing, through whatever manipulation is necessary, as usual.” After a moment of racking her brain, she remembered that Cersei was Tyrion’s sister, in this story.  _ Evil, power-hungry, bitch _ , she recalled the man describing her as. 

   “Bran Stark is earning his position as the Lord of Winterfell while Robb is away. He has a strange dream where he sees himself running around as his direwolf, Summer. He sees a red comet in the sky; some men claim this is an omen of victory for one side or another in the war, but Osha insists it means that dragons have returned.” Bran is sitting beside Jon, who is next to Sam, with Theon on his other side. 

   “Theon, meanwhile, has returned to the Iron Islands. His dad is a big dick.” Brienne couldn’t help but allow the group’s laughter to chisel at her nerves. Perhaps it would all be okay after all.  

   “Headed for the Wall is a group of future Night’s Watch - including Arya, Gendry, Lommy and Hot Pie. The former two are still on the run.” These four were clearly the youngest of the bunch, and were grouped together at the end of the table. Lommy and Hot Pie were on one side, nudging each other happily after hearing their own names. Meanwhile Arya and Gendry sat a conspicuous amount of distance apart, as though they would burn each other by touching. 

   “Meanwhile, beyond the Wall, Samwell is determined to help Gilly, one of Craster’s pregnant daughter-wives.” Brienne could see Gilly roll her eyes at Sam, clearly not happy about how her character was introduced to the story, but trying to be a good sport about it for his sake. Meanwhile, Sam seems oblivious as he continues reading his notes. “Later that night, Jon witnesses Craster taking a newborn child into the woods. He follows Craster, only to see him returning empty-handed. Hearing the cracking of ice, he rushes to the aid of the child where he sees a White Walker retrieve the baby. Before Jon can pursue it, Craster hits him over the head, knocking Jon unconscious.”

    _“And that’s where we’ll begin our story today.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this wasn't too terrible lol. As far as what happens in sessions, I don't have time to rewatch every episode, so I'll be making due by using the Wikipedia for each episode. So if I mess some stuff up, we'll just say "hey, it happens different in this version". Capiche? Capiche. Thanks for reading, y'all. See ya soon!


End file.
